


Familiarity

by Everyday_Im_Narrating



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bonding, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, I feel like that's a very important distinction, I gotta stop saying if you squint, I've been doing way too much fictional squinting lately, If you do, anyway! i'm having a mental breakdown!, dallison - Freeform, do you read these tags?, drop a howdy in the comments, how's everyone doing, it's romantic if you squint, mentions of Kate Argent, not bondage, one of several!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 05:03:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16758466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everyday_Im_Narrating/pseuds/Everyday_Im_Narrating
Summary: After a fight with the latest supernatural meanace in town, Derek finds himself playing host to an unexpected guest.





	Familiarity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clotpolesonly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clotpolesonly/gifts).



> I just wanted to write some sweet Dallison bonding, mostly as friends, with a little hint of something else if you look at it right. Hopefully it makes at least a little bit of sense.

Derek sometimes asks himself why he bothered to furnish the loft besides the bare minimum. Of course, he knows the answer - as his packmates have hammered repeatedly into his head, _the place you live in needs to be a home, dude._ And they’re right. He likes it this way, with proper rooms, a cozy living room, a kitchen he can actually cook in. What he _doesn’t_ like is cleaning up the mess when, after several months of relative, almost suspicious tranquility, they’ve had yet another brawl with yet another supernatural creature.

It wasn’t the worst or the scariest they’ve faced, by a long shot. The resulting injuries were nothing but a few scratches and bruises, they were able to get the rival pack to agree to peace without too much violence, and then he finally convinced his pack that he was fine cleaning up by himself. It’s a Friday night, so they don’t have school tomorrow, but they should go home and get some rest anyway. He’ll be alright. There isn’t even that much to do, just an annoyingly large amount of glass to sweep up, a window to fix by himself because he has yet to find a handyman who doesn’t ask too many questions, and some miscellaneous debris scattered around the floor.

He’s only managed to pick up the broom and dustpan when there’s a knock on the door, and the sigh he lets out is audible even to human ears as he walks towards it. It’s probably Stiles saying he forgot something.

But no. When he opens the door, what he finds instead is Allison like he’s never seen her before - looking not just shy but defeated, an equally worn-out duffel bag hanging limply from her shoulder. It smells strongly like dust and air freshener, although not so strongly that it masks the unmistakable scent of distress.

The last time Derek and Allison were alone together was when he drove her home, back when Scott was learning how to handle his wolfhood. It feels like several lifetimes ago.

“What’s the matter?” He asks, because she doesn’t seem like she’ll be speaking voluntarily anytime soon. Her heart beats at a rhythm that must be nearly painful.

“I - this morning I left at the same time as my dad. So we used his key. I left mine at home and he’s not coming back until tomorrow afternoon.” Her voice comes out a little choked. “Can I stay here?”

Derek nods and steps aside to let her in.

“What’s with the bag?”

“I have it in the car. Just in case... I don’t know. Cora taught me it was a good idea.”

Cora. Of course. His baby sister who has an utterly unfair amount of experience with running away from danger, who taught her newfound friends how to be ready to escape at a moment’s notice, just like she’s had to be, too. If Derek thinks about her too much, he goes into an emotional spiral he doesn’t want to deal with tonight, so he just nods in acknowledgement.

Without another word, Allison sets her bag down on the kitchen table and ties her hair back, then reaches out for the broom that Derek had forgotten he was still holding. By now he knows her well enough that it’s useless to argue, and besides, he’s well aware of how beneficial it is to keep busy when your head is going a mile a minute. So he lets her sweep and goes to fix the window with the best temporary solution he can manage. Sure enough, once they’re done, the distress in Allison’s scent has worn off slightly, and she even gives him a tiny smile when she asks him for a towel and heads to the shower with the duffel bag in hands.

Derek wasn’t exactly prepared for the view that emerges from the cloud of soap-scented fog once the bathroom door reopens. Not because she’s pretty - which she is, undoubtedly; it’s no secret that the Argent family is genetically blessed - but because out of all the people in the pack, Allison was definitely not someone Derek expected to own frilly, baby blue polka-dot pajamas.

It makes her look like... Well, like a kid. Which she is, despite the fact that she’s just recently turned eighteen. Eighteen is still _young,_ dammit. Way too young to have almost died, to have seen and fought and lost as much as she did - as much as they _all_ did - and to have an extensive collection of scars and bruises in different stages of healing, clearly visible below the shorts that end in small ruffles at the middle of her thighs. The look of exhaustion in her eyes isn’t the kind a normal teenager would have, either, from being an overachieving high school senior with a prolific social life. It’s something so much more weary, like she’s an ancient soul in a young, breakable body.

“They look stupid, I know.” She mutters as she comes back to the living room. “But it was either these or the winter ones, and it’s almost June.”

“I don’t think they look stupid.”

“Right.”

The silence that follows is awkward, so Derek breaks it by being a good host.

“I have water and iced tea. Do you want some?”

"Iced tea would be great, yeah. Thanks.”

It almost feels like a sleepover, in a bizarre way. They’ve hated each other in the past, risked their lives for each other later on, and now here they are. Sitting in Derek’s living room, on opposite sides of the couch, sipping on glasses of iced tea like any of this is even close to normal. Usually, though, sleepovers don’t tend to involve one of the parties being sullen and quiet.

At first he tries to diffuse the girl’s bad mood by turning on the TV and handing her the remote. She chooses a sitcom, but the laugh track is the only indication of anyone having fun, so Derek decides to take matters into his own hands and actually _talk_ for a change. It’s not something he does often.

“Is it just about tonight?”

“Is _what_ just about tonight?”

“That look on your face.”

“It’s nothing. ‘M just tired.”

“Of fighting?”

It seems he’s hit the nail right in the head, because Allison’s response is a long, shaky sigh that seems to come from the very bottom of her soul. She curls up into herself a little more; Derek doesn’t exactly know how to offer comfort to someone he’s had such a troubling history with, so instead of a hug, he offers the knit blanket that’s draped over the back rest of the couch. She takes it, gladly, wraps it around her shoulders like a cape.

“I came here thinking it was gonna be so easy.” She lets out a self-deprecating chuckle as she starts to talk. “I had my parents. My favorite aunt lived close by. I started school and immediately made friends. Fell in love with one of them.”

Derek encourages her to go on with a single lifted eyebrow.

“Now my mother’s dead, my father is sad all the _fucking_ time, we're texting the pack group chat every morning to make sure everyone woke up alive, and let’s not even mention the fact that my aunt was a goddamn psychopath and I went from loving her to being glad she’s dead.”

The mention of Kate is like a dark cloud hovering above them, and Derek is about to say something, to diffuse it or change the focus to something different, but Allison has other plans. Her voice falters when she speaks again, words tumbling out in a breath that doesn’t quite last long enough for all of them.

“I thought I was so strong and so smart and yet when I lost my mom, I let _her_ convince me it was all _your_ fault, even though you were one of the people she hurt the most. I wanted to _kill_ you. And you never even - I’m here in your living room, drinking your tea like -”

“Allison.” He lays a hand on her knee, both to offer a little reassurance and to snap her out of it, because he’s been down this path before. With the ‘what ifs’ and the guilt that tries to drown you if you aren’t careful. “I don’t resent you for that.”

(It’s mostly true. He resents her a little. Understanding her motivation doesn’t make it any less difficult to process the idea that yet another Argent wanted him dead for no more than who he is. But he _does_ understand what it’s like to be manipulated by Kate, and to be consumed by grief, and from that understanding it’s easy to find it in his heart to forgive the girl. She’s proven her loyalty multiple times after that, anyway.)

Allison’s hand immediately goes to rest on top of his; with her free hand, she wipes at her eyes quickly.

“How, though?”

“You weren’t yourself. Not really.” He shrugs, as if it’s a very simple thought process that didn’t take him several months to absorb. “You were a seventeen-year-old kid mourning the loss of her mother.”

The chuckle that leaves the girl’s lips after that is definitely unexpected.

“What’s funny?”

“Just... You call us kids like you’re so much older.” Her hand slides in between Derek’s hand and her knee, effectively sandwiching his bigger hand in between both of hers. He’s not usually this physical with anyone besides Cora, but it feels nice, so he doesn’t complain. “You’re what, twenty-four? “

“Three.” He corrects quietly.

“If I’m a kid, it hasn’t really been that long since you were a kid yourself. Hell, you were a year _younger_ than me when you lost your entire _family_. That’s enough to fuck up your head for life, and yet here you are, all... Unfucked.”

This time it’s Derek who has to laugh a little, because _unfucked_ is both a funny word and entirely inaccurate for his usual state of mind.

“You think I’m unfucked?”

“Well, yeah. I mean. You’re - you’re the person we all ask the embarrassing questions to and you answer without judging. You’re always looking after everyone - or, you know, _trying,_ but still. You’re just old enough to have finished college and here you are, being the big sibling to a bunch of maladjusted high schoolers.”

It takes a few seconds to really sink in. _Just old enough to have finished college._ He doesn’t always pay attention to how warped his perception of time is, or how different his life could have been if he were _normal_ , but it’s moments like this that make him stop for a second and question everything once again.

“Derek? Did I-”

“No, no, you’re fine. It’s just - it’s weird to think in those terms. Feels like I was in high school a century ago.”

They both sigh in unison this time. It’s a strange sense of companionship, and Derek doesn’t know exactly what motivates him to ask the question, but it’s out before he can think twice.

“Do you miss her?”

“Kate?”

“Yeah.”

For a moment, Derek thinks this may not have been a good idea, but his hand is still in between both of Allison’s. It’s not really a situation he had expected to go through, nevertheless feel so comforted by, but it’s not the first surprise he’s had tonight, either. When he looks up from their linked hands at the girl’s face, she’s more pensive than upset.

“Not... Exactly.” She starts to play idly with his fingers as she speaks. “I miss who she used to be. Or - who I used to think she was. I don’t know if she was always that bad, but...”

“She was.”He reminds her gently.

“Right. I know. I just... It’s bizarre to think that the woman who stayed up all night holding my hair when I had food poisoning and painted glitter all over my face for gymnastics competitions was the same person who... Caused so much destruction. Willingly.” She sighs again. “I think... I think I was the only person she was ever nice to without expecting anything in return.”

Derek remembers when things weren’t bad - when he was in love with Kate and she was so, so sweet to him, buttering him up to get whatever she wanted from his fifteen-year-old self. Back then, he thought she just loved him. No hidden intentions. Despite Peter’s warnings, he’d believed her. Maybe she’d been taking advantage of Allison, too, in whatever way, but Derek wasn’t about to just tell her that. In spite of everything, she still deserved to have some nice memories of her aunt, from a time when things were simpler.

He takes a few seconds to realize that silence has fallen over them, in a way that feels safe instead of awkward, and that Allison hasn’t stopped fiddling with his hand like it’s her own personal fidget toy.

She’s the one who breaks the silence this time.

“You didn’t deserve it, you know. Any of it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Kate. Jeniffer. All the - all the tragedy that went down.” She swallows audibly, and Derek finds himself having a hard time keeping eye contact. It’s not exactly news to anybody that he doesn’t usually tap into this part of his past - both because it’s painful and because despite a decent amount of introspection, he can’t shake away the guilt. “I know you blame yourself a lot, but it’s not right.”

“Can we change the subject?”

“No.”

It’s the first time she’s spoken firmly tonight, with that air of authority that comes from being an Argent woman. He can’t quite tell if the shiver that runs down his spine is from bad memories or from the surprise of being practically ordered to stay on topic, by _Allison._

“Derek. I tried to kill you.” This time, she acknowledges her past actions instead of confessing it. “I hurt you, willingly. I hurt your packmates, willingly. I allowed you and your packmates - _our_ packmates - to be harmed, and I did all of that because that was my exact intention.”

“I thought we weren’t gonna change the subject.”

“We’re not.”

With one hand, Allison takes a firm hold of the same claw-tipped fingers she was playing with earlier. The other comes up, deliberately, giving Derek plenty of time to react, and settles gently on his cheek. He can’t quite figure out what to do with this new development, so he just allows it, because her touch is warm and the light caress of her thumb over his beard feels oddly nice.

“You forgave me, and I never even properly apologized. Hell, I’m here in your apartment, sitting on your couch and drinking your tea.”

“I did. But that - “

“Look me in the eye.”

Again, an order. And again, he finds himself wanting to obey, despite how entirely uncomfortable the conversation feels. It takes a few seconds, but he meets the girl’s big, brown eyes, finding a fierceness in them that makes him want to do stupid things like blush and duck his head. He resists the latter, but there isn’t much to be done about the former.

“What made you forgive me? You’re a smart guy. It wasn’t just because I have a pretty face.”

Well, she _does_ , but that is very much not the point. So he shrugs.

“It’s because you changed. You were going through a hard time, it fucked with your head, then you grew out of it and proved that you were on my side. On the pack’s side. More than once.”

“I see.” Allison’s hand moves to the back of his neck and busies itself playing with his hair, and when have they ever shared this much physical affection? Why hadn’t he realized sooner how much he’s been craving this kind of intimacy? The more she touches, the more he melts. “Wouldn’t you say you changed, too? Wouldn’t you say you learned from your mistakes and are trying to do better? Why can you forgive me and not yourself?”

He goes silent.

It’s not like this thought process has never crossed his mind. It has. Multiple times, actually. And there’s clear logic in it, of course there is. But Derek’s head is a battlefield divided between a rational person and an absolutely inconvenient dumbass, and it’s the dumbass who keeps screaming at him to stop fooling himself. That his packmates fixed their mistakes and he can’t ever fix his. That he’s worthless. That - it’s another emotional spiral he has no desire of entering tonight, especially not when there’s a person he trusts and admires sitting face to face with him, fiddling with his hair and holding his hand.

Instead of letting his thoughts take him too far, Derek takes advantage of how close they are and wraps the girl up in a careful but enthusiastic hug, which she returns immediately, much to his relief. He really hadn’t noticed how much he’d missed this kind of closeness until he has Allison pressed right up against him, heart to heart, and it feels way better than it probably should.

“It’s okay that you’re not invincible.” She mutters, right next to his ear, her breath tickling his skin. It makes him shiver pleasantly, although it’s more of a purely physical reaction than any kind of titillation.

“I could say the same to you.”

“Touché.”

Before they part, he gives into one more urge and presses an entirely innocent kiss to Allison’s cheek; it has the desired effect of making the pale skin turn a lovely pink shade.

The conversation becomes much lighter after that. They pay a little attention to the show playing on the TV, even exchange some friendly banter about it, both of them clearly eager to switch to something easy after the emotional topics discussed in the past half hour. Not much later, Allison curls up under the knit blanket and rests her face on the armrest of the couch; after thanking Derek one more time for letting her stay over, she assures him that the TV won’t keep her from falling asleep and he’s more than welcome to stay in the living room and keep watching if he wants to.

He kind of does. The show is silly, but surprisingly captivating. It’s not the reason he ends up staying - Allison’s presence is; her scent has no business being so comforting when Derek finally takes a couple of seconds to really focus on it. 

At some point, he falls asleep too, without really noticing it. He only knows he slept because he wakes up hours later, while the sun is just barely starting to rise outside, and finds that his face is resting rather uncomfortably on Allison’s sharp hipbone.

He could leave. Just get up, go to his bedroom, and resume sleeping on his cozy bed. It’s the most logical solution. So, naturally, it isn’t what he does.

What he does is change his position so his head is on the empty armrest, slipping under the blanket in a way that the girl’s legs are lying parallell to his own. It’s just that little bit of contact and warmth that he needs right now, enough to help him sleep a little more peacefully than he would on his own.

Somewhere deep in his mind, Derek can’t help but feel that this might be the beginning of something. As long as it’s something just as sweet and comforting as this one silent moment they’re sharing, he definitely won’t mind.

**Author's Note:**

> If this story seems fragmented, non-proofread, and full of beginnings of plot points that never really go anywhere, that’s because it is! I don’t even know what I was going for here. I’m hoping you’ll enjoy it anyway.


End file.
